Recipe for Disaster
by Poison'd
Summary: Life is nothing but a string of conscious thrown together. Every thought, every motive has a purpose. Suicide can end this seething chain that threatens to choke us. But suicide does not have to be a miserable thing...-This is JUST a summary, NOT a guide-


15. Perfectly Blue

So I've been having a real down time recently. I can't explain it, but I keep finding myself upset by something or other. I suppose it's this feeling of failure that keeps enrapturing my senses. I can't honestly tell you why... I'm not sure myself.

Anyway, I needed to get it out on paper and so, alas, a depressing story of sorts. I thought it worth it though. This is the first story in a while that I haven't felt like it turned out to be a total disaster. Once I review it, I will post this up on fanfiction. Then I will wait until my next two week deadline to post this piece on the LJ 30 Kisses challenge where it belongs.

As per my nature, here are the two songs that helped with the inspiration of this piece:

Rain by Gackt

Enrai by Do As Infinity

Finally, I am not Kaori Yuki and I do not own her. I only wrote this story for pure entertainment purposes and I hope it serves just that. As a fan, this is my tribute to her and her work, _Kaine_. With any luck she might see this and be really excited that her smaller works get love too. With _even more_ luck, Viz will take the hint and translate/ sell Kaine… Come on, Viz. We love you. Also! Kudos to anyone who finds me an Amanda Palmer reference in this piece. I did not actually take the lyrics from her, I just borrowed a word... If you know her Dresden Doll works, you'll see what I mean (I highly recommend her if you haven't heard of her!!!).

* * *

**Recipe for Disaster**

The fan whirred noisily as he walked past the slightly opened window, stirring the cold, golden liquor in his hands methodically with a stray straw he had discovered hidden in his cupboard. He paused before it and let the soft air blow at his lower stomach restlessly as it tried to suck in the cool air it could from outside. His eyes watched the fan whirl and carefully he slipped the straw in between his lips.

Sucking on it a bit, he drank down the first sip as he continued to watch the blades rotate violently. He let the straw slide back into the cool depths and started to swirl the liquid again. The beating of the blades kept taunting him as he stood there and a thought flickered across his mind like a magnificent butterfly…

Or more like a moth. The thought fluttered towards the darkest point behind the light before it caught fire and burned to an ashy death. He watched it alight in his mind and refused to see the image that crept up behind the flaming wings, refused to be victimized by the scene that labeled him that in the first place. It was on repeat anyway tonight. Why pay it any more attention then when something else currently caught his interest?

He could save the winged creature, horribly entrapped with the symbol of death like he. He couldn't save _her_, but he could save the little thing that burned. He reached his hand out just short of the black bars that blocked the fan off from children. All it would take was a little air and a brush of liquid and he could save it.

But no. He needed to wait. Promised he'd wait. _To who?_ his voice admonished. And he remained silent in thought as a bright face burned into his mind. No, not him. He had no promise to him, no promise to her. It wasn't much of a promise really, and the voice laughed at the idea. He snorted aloud and closed his eyes as if the sound of his own disregard didn't hurt him deep down. It was more of a want and he had no reason or need to deny himself that.

He could still offer the air up to the half burned thing though, if he wanted to. Lowering the straw down to the rim of black plastic, Kaine allowed the plastic tube to slowly slide horizontally along it in thought. Finally, the moth cried out in a voice that sounded a lot like his mother's. Pushing the straw through resignedly, the electronically run thing choked and gagged viciously on bits of plastic as it hacked it clean off.

It didn't work. The moth kept crying out until it fell silent in its burned heap and the image singed the page of his mind black. Kaine stood in silence as he put his lips gently to the jagged edge of the straw. It snagged roughly at his lips, but he didn't care as he let it slide against the roof of his mouth. He took another drink before pulling it out again.

The cold liquid slid down his throat and cleared out the rubbage of his last thoughts as the black color of his mind became a milky grey. Kaine sighed as he set the cup down on his coffee table and allowed the white towel around his shoulders to fall to the floor. He would get rid of it tomorrow, but he thought it would be nice to have a bit of purity in his house at this moment. After all, if he couldn't make the object of tonight's movie pure, then he could at least make the scene appear that way. He could be a martyr.

But there was no longer anything left in his life to martyr for. He was still the only one who knew that, and hopefully it would stay that way for the rest of his life. For eternity would be better though. Then he could have the solemn peace he was blindly chasing for when the time came.

A sigh transgressed the air and he walked through the threshold to stand before the window. Maybe he should step outside into that hot world… It would settle his temperament and perfect his image of this world— a dark place home to the heat of human bodies that vastly mimicked hellish fires consuming soft flesh. It made it easier to say goodbye sometimes.

Kaine flipped the lock up and tugged at the glass door until it opened and revealed the thin, filmy door behind it. Pulling that back with less effort, he walked through and onto the balcony of his apartment into the warm air that caused him to need the fan.

These last few summer days had been hot. They had corroded all the joy out of the season with its constant warnings of heat strokes and badly scarred flesh. Flesh that probably looked and smelled like the burning of human flesh in a small kitchen as flowers caught fire, withered, and died. May she rest in peace…

He shivered in spite of the heat and rubbed at his arms; stepping further towards the balcony ledge with its little gate, if only to escape the horrible thought that occupied the spot he previously stood in. It worked, but only for the moment. He knew it would be back just like the raging sun would rise tomorrow. With any luck though…

The thoughts threatened the edge of memory and he clutched onto the silver railing as he inched away from them. He wanted pure thoughts. No one would see the lack of his purity, but if he could still smile then he could fake it. But those thoughts that currently clawed at his conscious threatened to drain all the energy from his heart and leave him cold and dead. He would never be able to pull the trigger like that.

Die had once mentioned that an author, or playwright, or so had said suicide was happy. The name slipped from his tongue and the work was gone too. But then, it had been senior year and Kaine had dropped out before then. But that wasn't what mattered. What mattered was that he had agreed with the theory then and he still agreed with it now.

The air blew over his face and he closed his eyes to let it blow calmly through his hair. He liked the feeling of it as it laid gentle touches on his exposed skin. It almost felt like love, or what he pictured love to feel like. Although… he was quite positive there was another love in this world. But, just as he was sure of that, he was positive this was all he got.

So he enjoyed it.

Opening his eyes as the breeze died down again, Kaine wondered what the others felt like. He had had familial— well, that wasn't entirely true. He had had the love of a mother and yet he saw the difference between his own and the one described by others. He could feel the difference tingle at the edge of memory on his skin and he dropped his gaze to stare at the grass beneath him.

It was beautiful… The way the eyes played tricks on the imagination, leaving it to see parched, dying grass as beautiful. He knew for a fact that the grass down there was practically lying flat in surrender, tinged brown where once sharp green edges had been. _Not he_, he thought a little smugly. He was going to go standing, in a small burst of light as the sound echoed hollowly before closing him completely off from the world.

But didn't anybody think of the grass? And he let a hand extend over the edge of the bars as he imagined gently stroking the dying figures with his finger tips. Somebody ought to demand the stingy apartment managers buy sprinklers with some of the patron's rent money. Maybe he would later if he remembered the world beneath him. After all, the managers seemed to listen to every one of his demands. But he recalled their fake smiles as their eyes twinkled with the denial of his small, trivial requests.

He jerked his head up and chose to stare at the clouds. There ought to be happiness in the world. Somewhere. For everyone. There should be little bits of joy hidden beneath some rock or deep under some babbling brook for everyone to have and hold. Kaine snorted. He would have to die for that cause then, he supposed. But would it really give him purpose if he were to die for a cause that could never be corrected. His heart burned with the passion of hatred at the thought.

A wisp of a cloud drifted past, and hazel eyes were drawn to the faint glow in the sea of dark blue. _There was a full moon tonight_, he thought. And a small smile spread across his lips as he watched the faint outline of the moon disappear behind another whisper of a cloud. He had heard once that a full moon inspired lunacy in people. _Then let tonight be his lunacy_, he proclaimed brilliantly,_ and let that be his mantra in this mad world!_

The wind picked up in salute of his promise and Kaine repeated the words more quietly to himself as the wind howled in his ears. It burned. He looked down at his wrist and stared at the bloody cut that drifted across his vein. It probably wasn't deep enough to cause any damage except to the immediate layer of flesh. But the mark was to paint the blade of the knife he left, not the canvas of his death.

His eyes slowly shifted back to the moon as his hand closed around the sticky, wet flesh. The slight movement caused the wound to reopen again and the blood slowly filtered between his fingers. He stared at the moon still, remembering insanity, but not the phrase. The blood continued to fall like a ticking clock and the images of past days blew through his mind and his body at its beckon.

As the wind quieted down in his ear, Kaine turned slightly away from the balcony and focused on a blade handle standing before him. "_Is this a dagger I see before my eyes?"_ he recalled from high school, but he knew for a fact that that was a knife. His knife. _"Of course he knew it, officer_._"_

Kaine could see the blood stain running along the silver edge that glistened from the hall light. He knew the black, plastic handle that jutted out from the door. And he knew the note that lay pinned to the black-painted wood of the guitarist's apartment. _It's a trap. Run, Die, run!_ his mind screamed triumphantly to the wind, howling with laughter.

He dropped his arms to his sides. _But you'll never run here fast enough. You will always be destined to watch as your heart shudders in sync with my ever-fading breath_.

'To the Boy with Death's English Name,

I am tired of being here, so come join me.

Do try and keep from being late.'

That was all he wrote. No signature, but Die would hardly need one. In fact, he probably didn't even need the note. It was just another way for Kaine to hurt him anyway. He was beckoning Death, not Die. And he was inviting Die to be witness to his demise, as his arrival should beckon Death if he were to arrive late. Kaine smiled. He wouldn't be alone in pain in his final moments then.

He knew the reaction well. Or at least he felt he could imagine it well.

Die would come upstairs after making sure his favorite, black car was safe and sound in the garage. He would walk around the corner and into the hallway, fiddling with the keys in his pocket. Pulling them out and searching the key ring for his house key, Die would be surprised at the knife that jutted out of his door at first glance.

Then this deep fear would set in his heart as his stomach clenched in horror at what he knew was truth. Pulling the knife out of the door, Die would accidently get a few droplets on his hand and would stare at them in terror. His mind would cloud over with the 'no, no, no' that seemed to be his way of trying to keep the truth at bay.

But he knew what it meant. Would check the note in vain hope, even though he would expect it to be empty. He knew who it was anyway. The words would sting as if Kaine had just slapped him across the face; would confirm the horrible pang in his chest as his eyes finished scanning over the few words. Die's eyes would cloud over with misery and Kaine would no longer be the only one in the world who was fearful, who was hurt— but mostly he knew he wouldn't be alone.

It was a beautiful idea, he sighed. And well executed too, although silence and an empty corridor always made for a lovely execution. _Execution… A fair choice of word, if I say so _myself, he amused.

He crossed the veranda as a smile set upon his lips and he left the balcony door wide open to let the wind through. Die should be here any second. The man would hopefully be the last image he would see if he was not late. Then Kaine supposed… Either way, his mother screaming out in agony as the flames licked her flesh was probably going to be his last sight. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, recalling how the smoke choked him that day. The thought at the edge of his mind was the only thing keeping him calm; the only thing keeping him sane at this crucial moment of his death.

He bent over and opened the mahogany drawer of the table beside the balcony entrance. Pulling out a nice, white handkerchief that he had left of his mother's memory, Kaine fingered the delicate fabric before removing it from around the cold metal beneath it. _Was it really cold?_ Kaine couldn't tell, but he was sure it was all a part of his mind trying to scare him off from the fatal reality of his decision. It wouldn't work.

Kaine weighed the gun in his hand as he turned his eyes up to the clock at the right of the door. Five more minutes… that's all he had. If Die was not there by then, Kaine was still going to pull the trigger. There would be no chance for him to see something else besides his mother. He sighed miserably. And if Die wasn't unhappy… then he would be alone. In five minutes, if Die didn't show… then he was going to die alone in his own sorrow.

He turned to look over his shoulder at the outdoor world and wondered how fire could be so pretty. When children drew there five-point stars in the sky, they should really be drawing little balls of fire. Fire was not beautiful. They should stop that. It would only steal away the last of their innocence and leave them naked in this cold, cruel world— where was the beauty in that?

Kaine couldn't figure.

But he didn't really need to. The door knob jerked with two clicks and Kaine turned back to stare at it calmly. Two more minutes… He could hear his name being called out frantically over the pounding of his own heart in excitement. He wondered why…

But that didn't matter. Die would be there to watch him…

The door finally opened as Die slid the credit card through it.

He had already lifted the gun up to the side of his head.

His gun. The one Die had given him.

The absolute look of horror washed over those features.

Eyes shone with the terrible knowledge of what was about to happen…

Kaine smiled at the only piece of comfort he knew…

* * *

"Save me."

And the trigger fired with a loud bang.

It was all over in seconds.

* * *

He listened to the soft breathing that rose from the young man that lay on the bed, his hair trimmed short so that his wound could be tended to. The gentle rise and fall of his chest contrasted the moment too beautifully. The moments before of panic, of waiting— all of it had been settled by the rise and fall of a chest as it breathed in sleep.

Die didn't know what to do. He shut the door behind the nurse and thanked her again for taking care of Kaine. She assured him that it was not her doing and that she was just wheeling his bed into the room. But she promised to pass the message onto the doctor who had saved him with a reassuring smile.

He had acted strong— had been calm. There was no room to freak out when it came to the stray patterns that inhabited Kaine's world and mind. One moment of panic could be all that was needed to let the man end his life properly. Die never seemed to be able to grasp that though. He knew it, but there was nothing that could stop him from the terror that held him still as the clock ticked by when he first received his messages.

It was only in the actual moments when Kaine lay on the floor in weak possession of life and sanity that Die could act. He was lucky to have gotten there before Kaine pulled the trigger. A few minutes too late and the red-head would be carried away in a body bag rather than to a hospital, wrapped in his best friend's coat.

Die could break down and cry. Honestly, it felt like the best method of handling his feelings. But the thin barrier that barred him from breaking down seemed to be strong enough to still will the tears to silent repose. He wanted to know if that made him a horrible friend, but there was no one to ask.

Standing up, Die walked to the window and peaked behind a curtain. It was morning now. The sun flashed in his eyes happily and Die kept the curtain from spreading the light over Kaine's face. He probably should stay asleep for a while longer; left to rest comfortably as the sleeping medicine they had injected into his IV wore off. _He didn't deserve it._

Turning around, Die stared down at the comfortable red-head and thought it again. _He didn't deserve it._ He wasn't sure now if he was referring to Kaine or himself though and he turned to stare at the curtain a while longer before going back to the chair.

He pulled it up next to Kaine's bedside and gently reached out to move a strand of scarlet from the pale face. His fingers gently grazed the skin and he picked Kaine's hand up from beside him. He looked so peaceful in moments like these. Die rubbed at Kaine's knuckles in thought before lifting the hand up to his mouth and placing his lips firmly against the skin. He drew away.

Standing up, Die leaned over Kaine and kissed him gently on the lips. He slowly lingered a few inches away, feeling the other's breath play on his mouth and gently tease the black strands of hair that fell beside his face. A hot tear landed on pale skin and Die quickly wiped it away before slumping down in his chair once more.

He covered his face with his hands and rubbed at his eyes before looking back towards Kaine's sleeping face. There was no point, the tears kept coming and there was nothing he could do about it. His breathing changed, but Die refused to make a sound as another tear slipped quietly down his cheek. He picked up Kaine's hand again and kissed it two more times before squeezing it gently.

Laying it back down onto the bed, Die refused to completely let go. A part of him told him to do so would mean losing the man and he didn't know what he would do if that happened. Die rested his cheek on the white mattress and kept his face turned towards the pale hand. He kissed it one more time as his heart thumped with the pain of breaking.

A part of him hated it. Kaine never seemed to take in to account that Die was only human, that there was only so much he could bear, could take. Die was his friend— probably his only friend with the way he treated others. But that didn't seem to matter to him. On one hand, Kaine would tear out his heart. On the other, he would smile only at him.

_What did it mean…?_

He was sure Kaine was full of secrets that he would never know; the same secrets that would drive him in this wild game of suicide. There was no solution or way out. Die was always destined to be an unwitting participant in the game and he hated it.

But the other part of him was relieved. Kaine told him, because Kaine trusted him. He was Kaine's only friend and, if he wasn't there, then the other man might succeed in finally taking his own life— never telling anyone that he wanted to be saved, that he wanted life. But really… Die knew he was looking for a second chance. Kaine wanted nothing more than to find redemption through these many attempts at being reborn.

Kaine probably blamed him for the fact that that couldn't happen… He probably hated him for holding him down to his old life, but Die couldn't let go. Somehow he had become enraptured by the other and, in one day, Kaine had become a necessary part of his own existence. _Yes, Kaine probably hated him…_ he thought, as he blinked his eyes tiredly.

He had gotten no sleep… _Perhaps now, when Kaine didn't need someone there… No. Kaine always needed someone there_, he thought with a yawn. A small smile twitched, and died, upon his lips. _Kaine hated him…_ _and here he was, desperately infatuated with the man_.

* * *

Kaine stirred. The door clicking shut having awoken him from his sleep. He stifled a yawn and went to sit up, but the pain kept him from moving his head. _That's right… I've shot myself,_ he thought, wondering if this is what hell felt like; a burning reminder of pain that told you how you had killed yourself and that you were condemned.

A sinking feeling ran through his gut and he had the urge to vomit as the taste in his mouth became bitter. Even in death, he was destined to be chained to condemnation, huh? The idea echoed throughout his mind and Kaine attempted to bring his hand to his mouth to keep away the feeling. His hand refused to budge.

Entertaining horribly that little, plump, blood-red demons were eating at his hand; Kaine shifted his head to look down. He was surprised to find Die lying at the edge of his bed, holding onto his hand. _Did Die follow him to hell? The moron!_

But the whiteness of the room was all wrong and slowly the panic ebbed away as Kaine realized the one fact he dreaded: _he was still alive._ A sigh escaped his lips as he shifted his hand to rest under Die's face. The bastard had chosen to save him again instead of killing him.

_Hm?_ His eyes wandered back down towards Die as he shifted his fingers uncomfortably under Die. _Was the bed wet? With what?_ _Tears? Die was crying?!_

Kaine found himself surprised. But then again… He smiled as he twisted a black strand around a slim finger. He wasn't alone apparently. The thought satisfied him, but it quickly ebbed away again. The pain still remained his burden, but at least for one moment in time… He had not been the only one feeling like the world was trying to suffocate him with the flames of reality.

He let out a breath he had no notice of even having held. _This was how it was supposed to be. This was how he wanted it to be. And this was how it was going to be._

"I love you," Kaine smiled. Removing his hand from Die's slackened grip, he ran his fingers through the man's hair, "my raven-haired angel…"

Kaine gently stroked the other's hand in thought, watching him sleep in his discomfort and misery. He closed his eyes in bliss and felt his body sink further into the bed as he relaxed. The feeling tingling through his nerves… What he would give if this could remain permanently in his life… What he would do…

And he let the darkness wash away the color of the world and wrap him in a safe haven. If he didn't sleep, he wouldn't dream, and his thoughts would remain blank. Even if they could never be pure, blank was still a more comforting place to be.

_It was all an act,_ he mused. The show over the red— no, blue was a better choice. Thus, the blue curtains were falling down over a darkening stage. The players hidden, only one man remains on the stage. With red hair twirling in the fan above, the bright spotlight shining down on him alone; he cannot see the crowd. There is no one there to him.

He clears his throat aloud and opens his mouth to speak as hazel eyes stare straight into the heavenly light. It is the prologue now. He must conclude this play, but he cannot find all he wants to say. The words are eluding him when a few step forward and offer they're help.

They're not what he is looking for, but the man doesn't think the ones he wants will ever come. He finally looks hard into the light, embracing it instead of fighting to look past it. It is his shield for now and these words… These words are his prayer to whatever may be listening, to whoever may be behind that light. Alas, he speaks:

'And if I could go on like this forever,

I would keep the sea of blood running.

This is my recipe…

For a Perfect Blue depression.'


End file.
